Peace
by toadstoolcouch
Summary: Spock realizes very taboo feelings about his father during the events of Journey to Babel. WARNINGS: Incest, graphic. Spoilers for that episode.


It started when he saw his father and mother's fingers connect in that simple, yet flagrant display by the shuttle bay. Their loving touch had never struck Spock as anything out of the ordinary until it was done in full view of strangers, of humans who could not possibly appreciate the meaning of it. He had worked hard to keep down any emotions, predictable and ruinous as they are, in preparation for seeing his father after so long, but this threatened to undo him. The sudden rush of feeling didn't last more than 2.4 seconds, but for a Vulcan, that was a shameful eternity.

He carried out the motions after the Ambassador had spoken to his captain, following strict protocol to ensure the proper operation of the ship until they reached their destination. He had not spoken to Ambassador Sarek as a father in eighteen years; surely a few more hours wouldn't make a difference.

So then what was he feeling, what was burning so fiercely in his mind, despite his iron clad discipline, not only to control emotions, but to destroy them in the bud? As he threw himself to his work, he analyzed his feelings, so he could understand and thus kill them.

Perhaps he was concerned for his mother's dignity? Even he knew he was being far too strict to consider that traditional Vulcan kiss as a vulgar display, but he could understand feelings of protectiveness towards his mother. He did love her, but for all her impressive strength of will, she was still a human, vulnerable to ancient forces she could not fully understand.

No, it was not that. Later, when she had spoken to him, with Sarek just out of hearing range, he felt the familiar warmth for her, but nothing like protectiveness. Against whom, her husband? Sarek was firm and stuck to his decisions, but he was not a threat to her, not by any stretch of the imagination. It made no sense to even suspect his father, a full blooded Vulcan, to represent any sort of danger to his own wife. As far as he knew, they rarely even argued.

But these mysterious feelings, these rushes of pain, or whatever it was, surged when he watched her return to her husband, fingers once again joined. It nearly choked him when he spoke to his father, when he felt the man's eyes gaze into his, and heard his unassuming voice, so restrained yet calm, speak his name.

His blood pressure rose, his skin prickled from blood trying to rush for release, despite his efforts to control such actions in his body, and his stomach sank when he saw his parents leave together, a flash of an image of their hands brushing together in his mind, vivid as the fierce overhead lights.

These feelings, he knew them now. They were similar to the plak tow, but not quite. No, he had felt this before, though in controlled, rare occasions that he easily overcame by sticking his nose deeper in whatever he was studying. This feeling raging within him was something simple, a mere nuisance at any other time, but close to an obsession now.

It was lust.

Spock barely suppressed a gasp at this dangerous realization, but he could not bury this and hope to continue with the voyage. He knew he had to analyze this, treat it as a parasite infecting his body, and then destroy it. Hopefully some day he could learn to forgive himself for being so weak as to have such thoughts.

He desired one of his parents, but once he got past that initial shock, he realized he didn't know for whom. He could nip this at the bud now and forget it, forever plagued with the feeling, but he wouldn't have the additional shame of knowing exactly whom he felt it for. But he recalled the image of his parents together once again, and this time a scent came to him first. Musky, but quelled, familiar and yet impersonal. He tried to convince himself of the logic of being attracted to his mother; he had experienced lust for humans in the past, she was female, and if the ancient philosopher Freud could be taken seriously, then...

But it was not for Amanda. Spock desired his father.

For the first time in a long time, Spock made himself appear busy by pretending to monitor a power display board that he had already checked. He had to hide, at all costs, what this realization had done to him. His face would not have changed expression, but with such a turmoil inside, Spock would not trust anyone seeing his eyes, and the wild terror that must have been in them.

It was true, and trying to deal with it only made it worse, so much more immediate. The attraction become more desperate even as he tried to talk himself out of it. Incest was a severe taboo in his culture, even in the humans' culture. There would be no one that could possibly empathize with his situation.

It did not help that Sarek was far more Ambassador Sarek than he was his father. Even when presented with the chance to save his father's life, Spock chose to remain on duty. The humans, free to follow whatever whim that grabbed their heart as they were, were horrified at his cold choice, but they could not possibly understand. And of course Spock had considered calling upon another officer to take his place; he was sure even another Vulcan would make such a compromise.

But his father would have been angry. True, his anger and disapproval would have been carefully hidden, perhaps never even hinted on, but that would not matter. Spock would still be able to sense it, and while his bond with his father had faded into almost nothing, he knew he would still suffer greatly for it.

Sacrifice his father to avoid his disapproval? Or was this connected to his desire as well? Would Spock wish his father to pay the price for his forbidden, clawing need?

Spock could not answer these questions, nor could he find any peace from them. His subordinates would not have the slightest clue that he was thinking of anything but the safety of the ship as he passed orders from the captain's chair, but they would have stifled him if he were any weaker.

He tried to appease himself by letting himself believe that Doctor McCoy would find a way to save Sarek. The irascible human had proven his worth countless of times in the past, this time should not be any different.

While the humans may have believed Spock was refusing to undergo the blood transplant for his father out of resentment (as they would never understand how natural it was for the Vulcan father and son to become more like colleagues than family with time), nothing could be further from the truth. Spock wanted desperately to undergo any procedure that would help the surgery; he wanted to spill his blood for Sarek, to watch the life return to the man's eyes, to touch his hand...

When the captain relieved him on the bridge, Spock saw through the ruse. Being so able to ignore and hide his own pain, Spock easily saw it in others. But this was the solution he needed exactly; of course his father could not accuse him of abandoning his duty in this situation, so he went.

His blood, his life-energy, seeped out of himself and into his father's body, joining them in a way Spock never imagined; thankfully his body did not have the strength to betray his primal desires, but the very idea of having a part of himself now rushing into his father was enough to make him want to fade away.

Seeing his mother evoke affection from his father shattered the warm glow that filled the room after Sarek awoke. He hadn't thrown his son a smile, but the look in his eyes was intense, repressed, telling a story all on their own.

It should have been him standing by Sarek's side, Spock thought, hating himself for it. He had given his father a part of himself, and now he wanted to give more, or at least take for himself what his mother got for free.

For so long he and Sarek had been as close as one random Vulcan to another, only it was even worse between them; Spock was the one living a decidedly un-Vulcan life by actively taking part in an organization that promoted the use of force.

Even his and his father's good natured teasing of their mother and of their human surgeon did little to calm the storm in the son's mind. This exchange of observations was far more than the truce as it may have appeared to the others. This conversation, this chance for them to meet eyes, felt to Spock like an open flirtation, although he did not suspect his father to see it that way, of course.

He had to take great care with his words, being so used to his father out-thinking him at every turn. Perhaps Sarek already suspected something, perhaps he knew the captain had tricked, or tried to trick, Spock into this transfusion, and perhaps he suspected Spock to be in on it. If Sarek thought any of these things, there'd be no way to tell. Having lived so much of his adult life apart from a man that was emotionally distant to start with, Spock felt that he would have to get to know Sarek all over again.

He no longer saw Sarek as his father, not in the same way a child or a human would. That was no excuse for incest, but it helped.

For months after that incident Spock had been obsessing about him. No one on board suspected anything wrong with him, although a few occasions he had lashed out at McCoy a bit more than usual during their arguments.

But in all this time Spock had gone out of his way not to read or watch anything that would have anything to do with Ambassador Sarek, fearing that just seeing his face or even his name would set off those vicious desires that bubbled quietly inside.

Approximately 6.3 months later, however, Spock had enough. The ship had earned some leave, and Spock took his at Vulcan. His outward reasons were to visit his family, and even to himself this was the extent of the visit. But deep within the recesses of his mind, the true reasons were vague, buried. There was still the chance that these feelings were some sort of insane desire for approval, or acceptance. It had been so long since he'd felt such childish needs, but if that was the extent of it, he would find out by seeing him.

For once in his life, Spock did not have anything planned beyond the first phases of his idea. The first part of the trip would be to visit with his father, and the rest he would leave up to chance. The prospect of such a thing was strangely liberating.

For half the day, father and son were joined by others. By the mother, by other friends of the family. Far too many others. Every look onto Sarek by anyone else Spock noticed and secretly resented. Never before had he felt such possession, such jealousy that anyone else would accept the gift of the man's attention, of his voice, of the direction of his gaze.

He began to notice Sarek glancing at him more than what was required for polite conversation.

As other guests began to drift back to their homes, Sarek's attention became more and more focused on his son. He said something to his wife--Spock could only focus on the calm, soothing timbre of his voice rather than the words--and invited Spock for a walk alone. Spock accepted with a carefully practiced look of disinterest on his face, carefully repressed excitement in his eyes.

Their conversation was empty, vapid. A few observations, comparisons of mundane daily activities, but were a guise to pass the time while Sarek led Spock to a secluded spot, an alcove off to a wing of the house rarely used.

The space was small, with only the doorway leading back out as a way for the air to vent. Even the sounds in that space were amplified, echoed, and yet Spock felt that they were enclosed and separate from the rest of the world. It was impossible now to even escape into his own thoughts, his father's presence so apparent and forceful.

"I have seen you notice me, son," he said.

The first thing Spock noticed what what his father had called him, and it came as a shock. Somehow, spoken in that man's voice, with him suddenly so close, his eyes electric, that innocent word became intimate. It carried a whole new meaning now.

Spock did not bother trying to deny it, nor could he even look away. Instead he mustered what dignity he could and half expected Sarek to perform the tal-shaya that instant. It would be a more honorable thing than he could hope for. And what better poetry, Spock thought, to have his existence ended by the very one who sired him? That would end the longing...

But when Sarek reached his hand out to him, it was not for his neck, but for his face, thumb caressing the cheek, fingers light. There was a faint smile on his father's lips, much like the one reserved for his wife. Spock could only stare back, lips parting slightly, heat and blood rushing to his face. Sarek's hand began to slide to his nape and grip firmly, but gently, and pulled him closer.

//You desire me//

"It is—forbidden..." Spock whispered, but with this touch, with his father's attention so firmly on him, his body became effervescent; the walls, the air itself seemed to fade to nothing. All he felt was the need of the plak tow, but almost none of the pain. His logical brain told him of the danger, especially with them being at risk of being discovered in this alcove, but he could not focus on those thoughts. All he could see were the details of his father's face, details he had until this moment never noticed before.

//Have you forgotten how to speak, my son?// Sarek transmitted to him, along with warm, soothing feelings as immediate at the sensation of his hand.

Spock tried to speak, but only empty breath came out. A playful rise of one eyebrow and a corner of his lips brightened Sarek's face at Spock's hesitation, teasing him.

//These feelings must be purged//

Spock bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to concentrate. Now Sarek was stroking the back of his neck, the feeling more powerful than a drug. Before he realized it, he was close enough to touch him, chest to chest, and he brought his own hands up to Sarek's waist.

//Yes, Father// he communicated, mouthing the words at the same time, his lips brushing against his father's jaw.

Sarek lifted Spock's chin and gave him what a human would call a half smile, but it hypnotized Spock. //I will help you, as my father helped me//

Before Spock could even think to question, his father's lips were pressed onto his. The rest of the world was tuned out, almost every other feeling discarded at that of the other man's warm lips moving his own, sliding over his own. Sarek tasted vaguely sweet, and Spock had the strange thought that perhaps he had prepared himself just for this moment. Sarek confirmed this thought immediately by pushing him into the wall just behind him, kissing him with a desperate fervor Spock could never imagine his father, or any Vulcan, to express.

Soon Spock was clawing at his father's shirt, kissing back just as passionately. He felt his father's teeth scrape his lips, his hands slide across his body, clawing through his hair. At first Spock hesitated, keeping his hands at his father's sides, but he felt encouraged, compelled, to drive them harder across his body. Perhaps because of his father's mental suggestions, but Spock was soon compelled to feel the man's bare skin beneath his fingertips. With Sarek pulling open his tunic, Spock pushed his hands inside the warmth of it, scratching lightly his skin.

He was pushed harder against the wall, knees buckling, and would have completely collapsed had his father not held him by the back. He was then lifted onto a railing on the wall, Sarek's hands on the insides of Spock's knees. Spock moaned and sighed into Sarek's mouth at the pain of the sudden impact of bone against metal, but neither slowed down.

Spock spread his legs even before he had proper balance and almost cried out when Sarek pressed his body hard between them. His soft moans grew in intensity and loudness as Sarek ground against him, but Sarek muffled his cries with his mouth.

Now Spock could truly feel he was giving himself to his father. His pleasure was amplified at Sarek's suggestion, and added strength to Sarek's own pleasure. He could feel Sarek's erection gnashing hard against his own through the fabric of their respective clothing, but it was as if there was nothing between them. His father was trained, as any other Vulcan, in the meditative arts, so he was able to encourage Spock to focus strongly on the sensation he desired. He could even feel Sarek mentally restrict his body from release. Spock would not climax until his father allowed his body to do so, and he was happy to give him this power.

//You do not need to feel guilt for this// he told him mentally.

Spock could not reply, mentally or not, as the pleasure overtook him. He was hissing wordless cries into Sarek's ear, wordlessly begging for release. All that stood in the way between him and orgasm was his father's hold.

//I did not with my own father//

With that revelation, Sarek released his son, and himself. They peaked together, with Sarek holding his mouth over Spock's tightly to control the sound. As Spock released a flood of tension, of longing, of shame in shuddering force against Sarek's body, he felt his father do the same. He fell into Sarek's arms, deathly tired, clinging to his father for support.

Sarek's arms embraced him, holding him with warmth Spock never dared to expect from him. His eyes welled with tears that seemed perfectly natural and he embraced him back.

"What did you mean?" he asked quietly, although he already knew the answer.

"As a Vulcan, you have much to learn," Sarek whispered back, stroking him softly. "This is a secret know only to the men of our species, my son. Our way of life may force our feelings to lie dormant and for us to live as distant as strangers, but even with us, there must be release."

If Spock had heard such a thing in the past, he would have been overcome with shameful humiliation, but it seemed right and natural now. The feel of his father's hand on his cheek, of his eyes warm and firm, of his body empty and cleansed, made this seem perfectly right. He had never felt so close to his father, or anyone else. He felt as if something had been reset deep inside him; he was at peace now.

//We are complete once more, my son//

//Yes, Father//

One more soft, meaningful kiss, and the two parted to quickly clean up and make themselves presentable for their evening meal with the rest of the family. Sarek and Spock did not appear any different to Amanda or their other company, but something significant had changed between them. A balance had been restored, and there was not a trace of guilt or shame, even though they both knew this could never be shared with anyone else.

So now, when Spock witnessed his father express his love for his mother in the traditional way, Spock felt no jealousy. He felt peace.


End file.
